Cold Spring
by Leng-Xue
Summary: Spring, the season of rebirth and renewal, awaits the rising star of Kyoto. There are no resets. Once a mistake is made, it can never be undone. A harsher, more brutal take on the world of Gion. Nobu/Sayuri
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, everyone! I hope you enjoy this story! I've been wanting to contribute to the MOAG community for a while now. All constructive criticism or plot ideas are welcome. Additionally, I've also created an RP forum for this story. Please drop by and take a look if you're interested! You can find the link on my profile.

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. Setting and original plot of Memoirs of a Geisha are Arthur Golden's. Heck, nothing but the OC's are really mine.

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 _September 21, 1940 / 9:04 P.M._

Time passes. She dances and grows into a woman. She paints her face and hides beneath a mask so that none may ever know her true thoughts.

It is what makes her unattainable, desirable to the point men go mad with longing. They bay at the moon though they will never be able to capture it.

Like tonight at Ichiriki Teahouse. Sayuri could see it in their eyes whenever they turned to her, their pupils dilated, their breaths stinking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. She would simply smile and take it no matter what they did in the end. The night would be forgotten and slide back into an eternity of the same words, the same mistakes over and over again until the end of time.

Her hand rests on the neck of a half-empty sake bottle as she gazes at the Chairman.

"Sayuri, where have you gone?" Nobu growls, snapping her back to reality. Smoke wafts from his nostrils as he looks at her expectantly, tapping a glowing ember into a small ashtray. She hopes he did not notice her subject of interest.

"To the moon. It is quite lovely tonight, wouldn't Nobu-san agree?" she replies, voice demure.

"Hm. It is."

But Nobu was not a man for idle chit-chat. The topic would change. She could feel it coming like a storm on the horizon.

"On a night like this, don't you simply think of Kaguya-hime?" she murmurs. She raises her face slightly, staring at the bright, full circle of white. "She must miss the Earth. A place without feeling, a place without _hope_ …" But she turned to look at him again, a lighter tone entering her voice. "But that is just a dream floating away on a small cloud."

The man harrumphed, replying, "You purposely goad me even when you understand that I am not a man who indulges himself in fantasy."

"Nobu-san cares about sumo, war, and business. That much I know."

His brow rises in surprise, the good side of his face brightening slightly. "You still remember that?"

She tips her face down slightly in affirmation and a small crinkle at the corner of his mouth belies his pleasure. The rest of the party seems to dim away as they kneel in a short silence. She gives him time to think, to piece together whatever he wants to say. If he changes his mind, she will speak.

Instead, he pulls a small painted box from his pocket, placing it on the tabletop and sliding it to her.

"Here, this is yours."

Sayuri cups it carefully in her lap, unhooking the latch and tipping it open with a small push. Therein lies a small seashell hair ornament; its color twinkles like a rainbow as she turns it in the light. Of what type, she is not familiar, despite living by the sea for most of her early life.

"Thank you, Nobu-san." Sayuri accepts the gift humbly. "I am grateful for your generosity."

"Nonsense." He waves her off, his one hand slicing the air in one swift motion. "I've never understood this concept of being thankful. I'm giving you this because of the company you provide me. There is nothing more to it."

And seemingly by accident, she offers him a slight upturn of her mouth, just barely enough that no one else would notice except for him.

* * *

 _September 26, 1940 / 1:33 P.M._

The life of a geisha is far too busy for Sayuri to become listless.

A small voice whispers in the back of her mind: she had not been able to bid the Chairman goodbye before he and Nobu left that night. In fact, she had not been able to exchange a single word with him throughout the party.

"Hyu-kyo!" The taiko strikes, filling the air with a deep rumble.

Her fan twirls high in rhythm to the strumming of the shamisen. She turns slowly, dropping her head back and snapping open the other fan. The maiko at the other end of the room watch in awe as she closes her eyes, becoming one with the dance. At the end, there is only clapping and wide stares.

"That is enough practice for today. Go back to your okiya and rest," Baicho calls to her. The head proprietress of the dance hall looks pleased with her progress. Her mastery of the sparrow dance has been coming along nicely this past month, and she is almost fully prepared to perform for the Autumn Festival.

Sayuri is just happy that she can return home for a few hours to herself. After gathering her things, the crowd at the door parts and she leaves.

The afternoon sky is alight with strong, white clouds. It grants her a sense of comfort that the elements would be kind today. She looks around, peering at dealers weaving through the throng of shoppers, offering wares. Children play barefoot outside their parents' establishments. Businessmen wearing foreign suits shove their way past everyone, hurrying to their next meeting.

Lastly, her gaze drifts to the soldiers. An entire battalion has stationed themselves outside a minor ochaya, their heads swiveling as fast as their necks could take them. They were likely folk from the countryside or even from the shores like her. People who were rough and unused to the monotonous pace of city life. For as long as she had been a maiko, and even now when she was a geisha, military men have always been desirable in Kyoto. Courtesans and geisha alike had always flocked to the ones with rank, especially if money came with the deal.

As she strolls deeper into Gion, she cannot help but feel the turbulence threatening to spill into her life. Hatsumomo was one thing, but possible war was another.

For a woman as shrouded in mystery and seclusion as she, even Sayuri was not blind to all the signs. Late at night, when Oka-san thought everyone was asleep, the old woman would play the radio and listen to the national news.

On more than one occasion, Sayuri had caught a few pieces here and there.

What was frightening was that no one was doing anything about it. There was little to no awareness of the danger.

She shakes the thought away. The willow world is all she has to know. Geisha involving themselves in worldly affairs was often frowned upon.

Sayuri opens the door to the okiya, shouting, "Tadaima!" She was home. The getta are pushed off as she steps onto the wooden porch that lifts the rest of the structure up off the dirt road.

Immediately, Auntie waddles into the room, greeting her hurriedly before shoving a letter into her hands. It was from Mameha.

"She is coming back to Gion. The Baron's business party is over," she coughs.

"Thank you, Oba-san. I will read it."

In her room, she sighs softly, rolling her neck and bringing the note to her attention.

Almost immediately, she realizes something is amiss—Mameha's handwriting is shakier than usual. How odd. Her eyes search the smooth envelope, and she turns it over.

By her thumb lies a small dot of red, seemingly engraved into the paper.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey, everyone! I've been gone for a while, but I plan on picking this story back up. Thanks to the two kind reviewers who dropped by! Constructive criticism is always welcome and I hope you enjoy!

 _XXXXXXXX_

 _September 26, 1940 / 6:47 P.M._

The letter remains untouched on the edge of her vanity. It would be a lie if Sayuri said she was unafraid of what she would find inside. Her mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts and poorly laid plans for the entire afternoon all the way through dinner. She had been so far away that Mother had to rap her chopsticks on the edge of her bowl to bring her back. Even then she could barely pick at her food with the stomachache that made itself present in her poor body. When she was finally back in her room, there had been little to do but keep herself calm.

Sayuri decided to clean up her jewelry box (even though everything was already in order). It had done nothing to stop the trembling in her fingers; indeed, her whole body seemed to be moving with them of its own accord.

 _That incorrigible—_

 _Insufferable—_

 _If he had dared lay a hand on her…_

A short, bitter laugh burst from her hollow chest.

What was she thinking? There was nothing Sayuri would have been able to do for her older sister. A stray tear slipped quietly down her smooth cheek, descending on a harsh, pale face. It was blank to the world, blank to her own eyes as she stared in the mirror. Why, she could not read what she was thinking herself.

Such was the life of a geisha. Even the loveliest, most prized porcelain doll had cracks and not all of them were from age. She honestly should have expected such treatment from the Baron sooner.

Sayuri had not been coddled like a child since she last saw her mother. From the moment she stepped out the door of that little seaside hut with Ichiro Tanaka, she had been an adult. She had to get this over with. Ripping the letter open, she scanned its contents, brushing the tear aside. In an instant, liquid ice melted quickly into syrupy relief deep in the bowl of her gut. It had not been as bad as she had imagined. Mameha had been subtle in case this fell into the wrong hands. If it had been anyone else reading this, they would not have picked up on the imagery or the metaphors.

She saw the image seep into her thoughts, the torn kimono, the raised fist, a slow trickle of blood dripping from a bitten tongue…

And the note. The formal paper and scented ink. Sayuri ran her thumb over the droplet of blood on the envelope. If she hadn't paid more attention, there was no doubt she would have missed it. The dull ache in her stomach returned. Mameha would not have said anything if she perceived others thought nothing was amiss. She was far too clever to waste time like that if the result did not bring exactly what she wanted.

It had been a warning of the state Sayuri might find her in the next time they met.

On the bright side (if it could be said there was one in a situation like this), her older sister would be returning tomorrow. She wanted to meet at Ichiraku as usual, 10 A.M. sharp.

 _The time the fewest guests would be present._

Pushing that firmly to the back of her mind, Sayuri shut the letter in her letterbox and stored it neatly at the bottom of her writing desk. It would be social suicide to act like something was amiss. The Baron could not know that Mameha had told her or else both would have hell to pay.

It would only be all too easy to crush the careers of two women, no matter how beautiful or famous they were. A few well-placed rumors and viola—a pair of likely additions to Kyoto's red light district.

And the Baron was not known to be a particularly kind or forgiving man.

* * *

 _September 27, 1940 / 9:50 A.M._

The bustling autumnal hues were fading to the grays and whites of winter, Sayuri noted with a slight sadness, watching the passing scenery with a pensive gaze. Another year will pass in Gion, but nothing will be any different, at least, not for her. The rest of the world will advance—her eyes shifted to the marching soldiers at the side of the street—war may break out, but Gion will remain trapped in the antiquity and tradition women like her were born to serve under.

Was that a relief or a curse? She never could decide.

The rickshaw driver pulled her over the bridge, delivering her to her destination at a quickening pace. He was undoubtedly eager for more work that morning.

"We've arrived, Sayuri-san!" he said, grinning back at her amiably. She paid him and stepped off lightly, mindful of the watching stares pinned upon her waxed head.

The proprietress greeted her at the front, fully aware that she would be visiting today. Motioning to the back of the room, she led the young geisha over to Mameha's table.

"Good morning, Onee-san," she greeted quietly, arranging her kimono as she knelt. She scrutinized the older performer before her carefully but without a hint of incriminating emotion. Mameha looked completely normal under a hurried, passing gaze. Her makeup was immaculate, back arrow-straight, clothes pristine and pressed. Sayuri was not fooled.

Mameha nodded, pouring her a cup of tea.

"How have you been feeling? In your letter, the illness sounded so severe." A blank look of worry, the slight tapping of manicured fingers. Mameha knew exactly what she was referring to.

"None of the symptoms are noticeable, luckily. I should have a full recovery within the week," Mameha said.

She lifted her head, and Sayuri could have flinched for the look in her eyes. Never before had she seen orbs so glazed and lifeless, so…accepting of what had transgressed. Whatever that was.

"Yes, Onee-sama. I am glad to hear that," she replied.

There was something more to this. It was obvious from her posture, from the way she sat, her hands in front of her belly.

"Are there any other aspects of this ailment that need to be checked out?" she asked cautiously. Mameha's hands tightened on each other.

"No."

"I see."

Neither of them were stupid. Mameha certainly knew that, but if she was not willing to tell at the moment, Sayuri would not push it.

"Forget my troubles for the time being. I have reason to believe that I have secured you a danna, Imouto."

For a moment, Sayuri's mind went silent. From sudden news of her sister's abuse by the Baron…to a danna? She thought Mameha was poking fun at her.

The burning of the chrysanthemum tea on her painted lips told her this was no joke.

"His name is General Tattori. He expressed a clear interest in you from the first day I was present at the party. We spoke more and he told me to consider his attentions as an offer."

"That sounds…wonderful," she ventured faintly.

"With the war and all, I'm sure this will be the right thing for you." And with a voice like a judge's gavel, the decision was finalized.

Sayuri sighed. "When will the ceremony be?"

"Likely early November. We have yet to finalize the date." Seeing the look on her face, she continued. "You have to accept this, Sayuri. It's for the best. Perhaps after the end of the war, we may be able to work something else out. With a General of his standing, you will have little to worry about when the hardest times hit."

She nodded. "Of course, I understand." But how long will the war last? A year? Five? Ten? She may not have a chance to be with…

"I will give you some time to become acquainted with the idea. Remember, it will be no different from your regular duties except you will be entertaining him only. On occasion, you may be decorating or arranging certain aspects of his parties, but it will be nothing compared to what you are already doing now."

For a moment, it was as if the old Mameha was back in all her glory. The lecturing older sister and the nervous, inexperienced younger planning their next step in the shadows of Ichiraku, completely within the control of their destinies. It was just like when they were still battling Hatsumomo in the earlier days of Sayuri's apprenticeship.

Sayuri nodded. "I know. Thank you for this opportunity."

For the first time that morning, Mameha smiled. "There is nothing to be grateful for. I am your older sister."

And they both sipped their tea lightly, silence falling over them. The charged air seemed to settle now that these issues were pertinently addressed. The meeting was over, and there was much to think about. Sayuri rose first, bowing slightly.

"Let me walk you out," Mameha said, "Where are you going after this?"

"Back to the Okiya. I have to prepare for the Chairman's party tonight."

"As do I. Nobu requested my presence."

"Then we part ways here." Sayuri squeezed her hand softly, waving her off when Mameha walked off in the direction of her apartment. For a second, grey connected with warm brown and the sorrow lifted.

 _Stay strong._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Nobu reappears! Colonel Goeth is Ralph Fiennes from Schindler's List, so you can use him in your mind's eye as you read. This is NOT his actual character, so ultimately he will not be the same person you might expect. Please enjoy and reviews are love!

XXXXXXXX

 _September 27, 1940 / 7:51 P.M._

To be geisha is to be art. Sayuri was keenly aware of this as she walked out of the okiya, an ethereal vision of youth and beauty highlighted by the shimmering moonlight and the twinkle of the stars. She wore her best kimono for the evening, the seashell ornament Nobu gave her in her gleaming hair.

"Bekku-san did a wonderful job this evening," Mother said, appraising Sayuri briefly, "Now go work your charm on those men. I hear this is the most important party of the year for Nobu-san. He needs this for Iwamura Electric."

She tilted her head in deference, ignoring Hatsumomo's sudden appearance at the door. The older woman was loosely dressed in a crimson kimono, her hair undone and makeup smeared. It was obvious that she had been drinking if the smell was any indication.

"Ah, don't you look just…lovely, little Sayuri," she sneered.

"Thank you, Hatsumomo," she returned, the blue-gray of her eyes flashing to steel, "I'd like to return the compliment, but…"

In an instant, a murderous look of fury crossed her features.

Mother motioned to Auntie to get Hatsumomo back inside, grabbing Sayuri roughly by the arm and dragging her away before the older geisha had a chance to jump her.

"Don't provoke her like that. It'll ruin all our work if the two of you get into a fistfight." Her head swiveled around like one of those onryo right out of a kabuki, gauging the likeliness that anyone saw her two finest geisha hurling insults at each other. Luckily, there was no one paying the Nitta Okiya any mind, so she nodded in satisfaction, giving Sayuri a light push to get into the rickshaw Auntie had called in advance.

"Don't disappoint me."

With that, Mother pulled the curtain down, leaving her in darkness occasionally punctuated by the flickering of streetlight flames though the swinging of the rough cloth.

The quiet of the passing establishments soothed her as it had in the past. When she first became a maiko, she used to take travelling time to calm frazzled nerves. It was like waxing down stray hairs that flew from her neatly combed head. One by one, muscles relaxed and fingers unclenched until her body was poised but languid enough that she felt unstressed. All of her worries about Mameha's health and her new danna faded into the background. By the time she arrived, her mysterious mask had clicked firmly into place.

She was ready to go.

The mistress of the teahouse announced her presence upon entrance and she immediately made her way to Nobu's table to greet him, the host. To her relief and happiness, the Chairman was also there.

"Nobu-san, Iwamura-san," she said softly, lowering her head. They waved her aside and she greeted the rest of the table occupants before making quick rounds around the room, pouring sake and trading quick jokes as her way of reintroducing herself. By the time she circled back to Nobu's table, Mameha had arrived, smiling at her and doing the same. She was a picture of radiance and modest charm, exactly what she had been before the Baron's party. Sayuri was utterly relieved that she was fine for the evening; she could give her full attention to the company before her.

"Sayuri, this is Colonel Amon Goeth. He came from Germany to discuss possible wartime arrangements we might be able to make. The other two men are his aides," he explained quickly in Japanese, his fingers drumming the surface of the table with an agitation that did not go unnoticed by the young woman. By his side, the Chairman was engaging said man in awkward, stilted German-Japanese, each interjecting whatever words they had picked up in some sort of attempt at a conversation.

Directing a smile at the group, she raised the sake bottle. "Would anyone care for a refill?"

All discussions broke. The Colonel raised his head, looking at her with a piercing intensity she had not expected. He pulled brunette locks back, ice-blue eyes sliding from bottom to top, weighing her worth. He was obviously displeased at being interrupted.

To her (and everyone else's) surprise, he gestured to his cup and she filled it with the accuracy of hundreds of nights past.

"Thank you," he said. His gloved fingertip grazed hers lightly as he took the cup, a disinterested mien creeping onto his features when he threw it back, turning to the Chairman to continue.

 _Rude._ Sayuri sneaked a small glance at Nobu-san, who had fury sparking in his irises. She could smell it radiating off of him in waves even though nobody else noticed. Perhaps he thought the same of Goeth's behavior as she. The Colonel's companions had their beady eyes trained on her, the familiar hunger she always saw in men draining slowly into the pale pallor of their skin.

Intriguing.

She took a deep mental breath and flashed her most alluring grin. If she could not get the Colonel, she should at least persuade his comrades…

* * *

 _September 28, 1940 / 12:14 A.M._

Business always came first to Sayuri. It was only after guests started thinning out and Nobu started paying more attention to her that she realized she had not shared a single word with the Chairman. Well, nothing outside of a greeting at least.

That was severely disappointing in itself, but she reminded herself that the party was not over yet. That she still had duties she had to attend to and that the Chairman was nothing more than a fleeing fancy.

"You're wearing the hairpin I gave you," Nobu murmured, glancing up at it, "It looks wonderful on you."

"More wonderful than the moon?" she asked innocently.

He laughed, remembering their last conversation. "Yes, yes. The moon cannot compare."

"It's all because of your kindness that a mere mortal like me can outshine our nightly source of light," she sighed.

An amused snort indicated that he disagreed. "I know what you're doing, girl, don't start this 'gratitude' issue again. I will only rebuff you until you have no choice but to pretend that it was yours in the first place."

"Well, maybe you should know that I haven't surrendered yet, Nobu-san," she said, smoothing out her kimono.

His chuckles made her smile with warmth. It had been far too long since she had someone talk to her like this. For a second, it occurred to her that Nobu was the only person capable of testing her wit and teasing her at the same time.

"Did I hear talk of war?" the Chairman interjected. Sayuri held back a blush as his handsome face turned to hers, a smile of mirth coating his lips.

"Maybe, but nothing more than a petty skirmish," the Colonel quipped, surprising Sayuri for the second time that night and breaking her out of her reverie. He was more adept at Japanese than she previously thought.

He and the Chairman nodded politely at each other, finished with whatever business ventures they were occupied with. The party had been successful if she could judge anything from their as well as Nobu's expressions.

The German lifted a cigarette to his lips, scowling at the sight of his two underlings getting grabby with a couple of other geishas.

"I must apologize for their behavior…especially after meeting such refined men as yourselves," he said, releasing a smooth puff of smoke. He extended his hand and shook Nobu's and then the Chairman's. "Perhaps it is time we left. We look forward to continuing our discussions in the future."

He snapped his fingers twice, as if calling his dogs to him. The aides dropped the women, scrambling to their feet to reach the Colonel by the time he stood. She and her hosts rose, following them out with a sweep of the gentle night air.

"Thank you for the kind welcome. Goodnight." He even nodded at her as he stepped into the sleek military car that had been waiting, foreign pale blue passing through the back of her head.

The driver zoomed off as soon as he received the call.


	4. Chapter 4

_September 28, 1940 / 10:36 A.M._

Sayuri was lucky Mother let her sleep in the next morning. The entire night had just been…tedious after the Germans took their leave. By the time she got home, it was nearly 2 A.M. Her head had been throbbing and strangely enough, thoughts of the Colonel's gaze had haunted her throughout the night. At first, she thought he had not made much of an impression but…

Shivering, the young woman began to dress, pondering on the meaning of her subconscious focus on the man. He was nothing but disinterested in her for the entirety of the party, yet she still felt the coolness of his eyes on her face, her neck, _everywhere_.

It was not the look of a man who desired her. For that, he was unlike any other patron she had entertained before with the exception of the Chairman and Nobu. The two were the most sensible in manners and character she had seen. The Colonel, however, was something else entirely; that was not to say he was not a gentleman, but he was just odd. He was cool and unobtrusive unless the situation called for it.

Perhaps he was more like Lord Yama of the Underworld. He searched the depths of a soul, seeking its worth to him. He saw how that person functioned and took control. Manipulative to core, she guessed. Hatsumomo would be a fine match for him.

She smirked slightly at the thought, and moved on. Life was too short to dwell on such things for too long.

* * *

 _October 15, 1940 / 2:32 P.M._

A note in the morning. A single rush of adrenaline and forced smiles and…

"Sayuri, don't you think this kimono is lovely?" Mameha giggled. The soft orange-and-yellow leaf pattern swirled before her eyes and reality fell. The fading colors of life would soon give way to nothingness. When she looked outside, she could have sworn ashes were falling from the sky.

"Of course, sister. I'm sure Tattori-sama will love it."

The whispers had gone silent. Afterwards, Sayuri declined a rickshaw ride back to the okiya, preferring to take a quiet walk instead. It would help her clear her mind. Or so she thought.

The wind was cold and cut like glass upon her pampered, tender skin. The weak skin of a woman. For once, Sayuri wished she had been born a man. She would have traded her paper-thin mask for the thick, impenetrable hide of Nobu-san's masculinity in that moment. A man could do as he pleased as long as he did not care for how others perceived him. _That_ was wealth and power and bravery—all things that belonged to men. _That_ was freedom, wasn't it?

She could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue as it rolled gently off of her red lips. She felt the seashell comb again between her limp fingers…in her hair…pressed to her cheek.

But she blinked again and all of that melted away into a distinct sense of confusion. Guilt washed over her body at the thought.

Why had she been thinking about Nobu-san? What about the Chairman? What about what she had promised herself as a child?

 _Things change. People change. Why torture yourself like this?_

Sayuri halted mid-stride, the wood of her geta sandals clunking lightly on the bridge. Slowly, she turned to the brightly lacquered railing and looked out at the moving scenery. The passing of time and people.

 _Choose one: freedom or the bird-cage._

She gripped her sleeves a bit more tightly, her manicured nails digging into the finely woven silk.

Sayuri the geisha never had to change as long as she was in Gion. She would always do what was expected of her and never complain. That was her fate, the lot heaven had thrown to her. Why else would Kami-sama place her in a life that gave her no choices of her own?

There was one thing that bothered her. Was she choosing to love the Chairman or was she following what she believed fate was telling her?

Her mind was completely muddled with questions that would never have an answer. The only way to know was to escape, and thoughts of that had long left her since that failed rooftop excursion all those years ago.

"Sayuri-san!"

She lifted her head at the sound, turning her face slightly. A man was calling to her—Nobu?

The rush of the crowd parted like river reeds and he stood before her, sweating and silent.

"Good afternoon, Nobu-san," she greeted softly. And when their eyes met again, there was something peculiar there. Something she rarely saw or recognized, even after all of her years as an entertainer.

Quickly, he tore his gaze from hers, spinning on his heel and motioning for her to follow.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked, tucking his hand in his pocket. The brim of his hat was tilted low over his blurred features, shadowing everything away from her. Even then, she faced forward and walked slowly by his side as was proper.

"I fear it's a little too late to be asking that, Nobu-san," she chided gently.

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Well then, I had better not waste your precious time."

"Nobu-san would never waste my time. It is his conversation that I value the most."

"Ever the flatterer, I see. Well, I'm here to ask you to accompany me to see the Colonel again. He finds you…interesting for lack of a better word."

"I would be honored."

He coughed quickly, keeping his midnight gaze on the straight and narrow. They'd known each other for far longer than some married couples, and yet, they still could not find it within themselves to look at each other. Sayuri did her best to convince herself it was just the nature of their relationship—danna and geisha, a customer and an artist, but she couldn't muster the effort.

"Good. Europeans are easily pleased creatures. Even one such as the Colonel should be satisfied with you, Sayuri-san."

She only tilted her head, and silence descended upon them. They were walking aimlessly at this point, neither having a set path to follow. It seemed like neither _wanted_ anything to do with order… Secretly, Sayuri thought that was odd for wood. Like it was fine with how wildly the river flowed.

The number of people around them began to grow sparse. The wind blew her mind away. Drifting on the edge of nowhere was his scent. Of all things she had to notice after the tumult in her heart, it had to be this. He smelled of smoke from a dying campfire, of the dusk of evening heavy on the horizon, of stars scattering in the night sky…

For once in her life, she blushed. She blushed in confusion, thankful for her white makeup. His coat and scarf fluttered gently on the breeze, drifting back when he turned his face to look at her.

"Let me hail a rickshaw."

"No, please, the fresh air is invigorating," she said.

"Then I shall walk you home. Gion isn't safe after dark."

She gave a quick bob of her head, pleased and shocked at her reaction all at once. What was happening to her?

* * *

 _November 3, 1940 / 10:36 A.M._

Life had taken on a bland tone since Mameha had taken her kimono shopping that day. The worn piece of thick white paper dangled limply in her hands, frayed slightly at the corners. Sayuri tucked it back into its envelope, ripping her eyes away from the red.

There had been nothing but party after party for days on end. Sayuri was waiting for the next time she would get to see the Chairman… Well, there wasn't much of a need to lie to herself. It was really just Nobu-san. When they met last, she was intrigued by him in a way she had never felt in all of her adult life. It was different even from when she looked at the Chairman. The things she and the war veteran had shared just by the act of _conversation_ had started up strange thoughts in her head.

Why was this happening? Why now when she was to be sold to General Tattori in a matter of days? She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to.

It was like watching a candle get extinguished. The small flame that had been lit in her heart would not be allowed to grow like this. The water was too strong…the duty her position required couldn't allow for more thoughts of love. She was already enslaved to one man in her soul, now two more would be fighting for a place there too.

Sayuri was sinking in a ditch of her own creation, having nothing but her slender, childish limbs for protection. She wanted to reach out for help. For once, she was the one drowning, not the other way around.

She had to find a solution to this…and as fast as possible.

* * *

A/N: And the divergence from canon begins. Please tell me what you think so far! Constructive criticism is welcomed as well as possible plot points anyone might be interested in seeing me write. I'm sorry for the long delay, but if anyone's still interested in this, I'll gladly continue!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'd like to thank **Delia Lavender** , **NeverIsTheEternal** , **Anna** , and **Ann aspiring writer** for all your lovely reviews! I'm really happy that there are people who still read this story. Unfortunately, I am going to put this on hiatus since I'm not sure when I will be able to update next.

On a brighter note, I am considering writing a new Nobu/Sayuri story. There will be information posted on my profile soon. If you are interested, please drop by and have a look :)

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 _November 11, 1940 / 8:21 P.M._

The strange feeling of confusion and urgency stayed with her throughout the month. Wherever she went, the ghost of Nobu's scent or the softness of the Chairman's handkerchief would mock her brutally. It was all she could think about, all she knew in her heart.

How could she have been so blind all this time? How could she have overlooked Nobu, the diamond that had been beneath her nose for these past few years? If Sayuri were to ask _anyone_ in Gion's streets who was the thickest, most hard-headed person on the face of the earth, all would reply 'Nobu.' It was clear that _she_ was the rightful owner of that title. She had to be or else she would have opened eyes to men other than the Chairman earlier.

Simply thinking about this hurt her so. She had no right to these feelings. She didn't even have a right to her own life. How could someone in her position covet what was never meant to be?

Sayuri stared outside her window, watching the hustle and bustle of the town. Groups of women and their children caught her eye the most—she wished she could have that kind of simple, carefree life with a man and offspring of her own.

How unfortunate for a doe-eyed girl with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Predators lurked around every corner in wait for the slaughter. She had been foolish enough to walk right into an ambush.

There was no reasoning with the mixed feelings she had for the two most important men in her life, so when a telegram came with her name stamped on it, and she saw that Nobu was the sender, she nearly leapt up in joy. It was the most ungraceful display her body had performed in a long, long time. She was a far cry from the serene, controlled geisha she was only a little more than a month ago.

Mr. Bekku spruced her to perfection, as always, using nothing but the best of perfumes, waxes, and paints on her delicate skin. He was doing nothing more than his job, but to Sayuri, she pretended like she was a bride being sent off to her groom to exchange vows. When she was still a maiko, she liked to play this fantasy out in her mind whenever she met the Chairman. No matter what party they attended, he would always stand when she arrived. She would glide towards him as if she were walking down the aisle in one of those western romances. The softness of her steps had been for him and him alone, though it garnered attention and praise from other guests. More often than not, her entrances would cause entire parties to go silent.

It had been so simple then. Her gaze was as pure as starlight, as focused as a spotlight when she was with him. There was nothing like that anymore. The stakes were growing higher with each man she met and got involved with.

Night had just barely fallen when she set out. The sights she had grown to love and feel for were nothing but blank canvases in her empty stare. They held nothing new for her, nothing that made her want to linger. She did not need them to calm her nerves this time.

Sayuri did not know how to rectify any of this, so she would do what she always do when she had a problem: she would let nature take its course. A lesser person would say 'fake it until you make it,' but Sayuri thought that was rather crass for her. Even if she was nothing more than a commoner from a fishing village, she was a transformed woman now. A butterfly that had flown from her chrysalis.

The wooden teahouse that housed her customers came into sight. She dismounted the rickshaw with her usual mien, determined to show nothing but perfection, just as she always had. The chairman and Nobu were relying on her.

Everybody was.

The stress and struggle of constant neutrality had never been a problem for Sayuri. For all of the sleepless nights of parties and entertainment she had gone through, the exhaustive nature of her work had never taken its toll on her. She supposed she was just lucky. Lucky that she had been sculpted from the same clay that politicians and CEOs were made of. Perhaps something similar to even the Iwamura Electric men. She had a bit of strength, a bit of fastidiousness in her weak skin and bones. Just not enough.

And when she glided through those doors, her noh mask in place, she felt eyes on her and her alone for a long second of eternity. These people did not see the same person she did when she looked in the mirror. They saw a professional, a woman born and raised to cater, to serve.

The two pairs of eyes she valued most settled on her slender frame, enthralled. At this late stage in their relationship, she was still surprised to find that Nobu had that same waxen stare that he did when they first began their acquaintance. The chairman, on the other hand, seemed faded in that moment, like he was the smooth, shapeless candle instead of Nobu. She was clay and they were wax. The only difference between Nobu and the chairman was that he was melted. His features had been prematurely obscured. He was unlucky and unwanted.

Her lips split into a small smile. "Good evening, Nobu-san, Chairman."

They nodded, Nobu extending his hand to the seat next to him. "Please, sit."

She accepted gracefully, turning her head around the room in greeting. She would make her rounds later when more guests arrived.

"Sayuri, the Germans should be arriving soon. We're relying on you," the Chairman said, a teasing grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "I suppose you'll be needing all the luck you can get."

"Oh? I wasn't aware they were so difficult. They were rather polite at the last party," she replied. Mentally, she patted herself on the back, pleased that she wasn't flustered at the Chairman's attention for once. She needed all of her wits about her if she was to fight for control of her heart.

"That's because you didn't have to hold a _real_ conversation with the Colonel," Nobu grumbled. He downed a shot of sake with a grimace, motioning for Sayuri to refill it. "I'll be needing this if I have to put up with their nonsense for the rest of the night."

"Nonsense? I don't think I've ever heard Nobu-san speak of his business ventures in such a way," Sayuri said soothingly. It was better to calm his ire early. The party hadn't even started and the man was already irritable.

"It has nothing to do with business. In fact, the 'deal' they want is little more than a sham of the glory an equal partnership between companies can bring. If not for the government's threat of bringing Iwamura Electric down on our heads, neither of us would even be considering this."

The Chairman's blank expression froze at Nobu's outburst. He cast an apologetic look towards her.

"Might I ask what aspect of this deal is bothering Nobu-san?" she asked. His hand was gripping the cup tightly.

Before he had a chance to reply, the shoji screens opened, revealing the foreigners in their crisp uniforms. Nobu, the Chairman, and Sayuri rose and approached for the necessary salutations, the men shook hands while she stood and bowed. One thing caught her eye: for all the dislike Nobu had for the Colonel, it seemed like Goeth held none of the same ill will. A glimmer of…perhaps respect shone like a beacon in the foreigner's eye. It was likely that he admired Nobu because he had been in battle before.

In a time of war, the one thing that unified men all across the globe was their shared experiences with death and suffering. Japanese patriotism was not unlike German sentiment and this was in part due to the similar nature of both countries' governments. Sayuri might be inexperienced in politics and worldly things of that nature, but she couldn't deny that this tidbit of information fascinated even her. She heard it on Mother's radio earlier that year. Now, it might work in her favor.

As the small group settled at a large table, Sayuri decided to sit by Goeth. He had taken a liking to her after all, and it was only polite to return the attention.

She ignored the way Nobu's nostrils flared; they both knew she had to do this. The Chairman, cool as ever, didn't pay her actions any mind.

"It is wonderful to see you again, sir," she said, voice soft. She hoped he understood, and he did.

"You as well, Nitta-san." He didn't turn his face to her. He didn't even seem to acknowledge her presence. He filled his own cup, holding up a hand when she reached for it to serve him. "There's no need."

"Please, sir, you may call me Sayuri."

With a nod, he took a sip, and said, "Do you have foreign blood? Your eyes are an interesting color. Like a storm or even the most powerful of streams."

He wasn't complimenting nor insulting her. Fascinatingly enough, it looked to Sayuri like he was simply making an observation. His voice was as cold as his expression and completely neutral. Never once in her life had she ever come across a man like this.

"No, sir. At least I don't believe so. Many have said that I simply have too much water in my blood."

He raised a brow, looking at her for the first time in their acquaintance. "Oh? A speculation based on…"

He frowned, thinking for a moment. "What is the word? Ah, superstition?"

"No. It is simply our culture."

That seemed to satisfy him, so Sayuri thought to pose a statement of her own to keep things running smoothly. The Chairman and Nobu had each started up their own conversations with Goeth's aides, and they seemed to be doing fine discussing business.

"I would imagine there is a greater variety of eye colors in your homeland, Colonel."

"Yes. Greens and blues of every shade as well as gray and brown. I must admit the lack of diversity in Asia shocked me. Everyone shares the same features of color whether they like it or not," he said airily. "You, however, are an interesting exception. Perhaps it is God's work; a sign sent to me about our alliance with Japan. The Fuhrer is correct in considering the Japanese as honorary Aryans."

"Thank you. I am grateful for your kindness, sir." She lowered her head in supplication. A performer like her didn't deserve these words, and yet he graced her with them so freely. Perhaps her presence had really had helped Nobu and the Chairman somehow.

He offered her a twitch of his lips, turning to the Iwamura Electric men with serenity in his features.

The rest of the night went surprisingly well. Both Nobu and Goeth partook in every party game she suggested, which shocked her greatly and amused the rest of the guests that night. The colonel had proved to be more than the man she thought him to be. Clearly, there were many layers to the cool, unfamiliar demeanor she had been introduced to a month ago.

When she finally had leave to return to the okiya, it was early morning. The partygoers had vanished into thin air like onryo fleeing from the brightening sky. Even Nobu and the Chairman were eager to leave. She exchanged simple goodbyes, refusing to linger on one more than the other before she stepped into her rickshaw.

Just past the haze of the dark, the colonel had tipped his hat politely as he stepped into his car.

* * *

 _November 12, 1940 / 8:21 A.M._

"Onee-san, what do you make of Westerners?" Sayuri murmured. She stared at her manicured hands folded neatly in her lap. Across from her, Mameha raised a brow.

"What brought this line of thought?"

"The Germans at the party last night."

Mameha gave a slight frown. "They are men no different from the ones you and I know. Men are the same no matter where they are from. I hear the Colonel enjoyed your company, distant as he is from the other forms of entertainment Gion possesses."

"Yes, though I don't know what to make of him."

"Explain."

"He is strange, harder to read than most…and calculating. He doesn't seem like the type of man who would come to Gion if he didn't have to."

"No? Perhaps he is in line with men more like Nobu-san."

Sayuri certainly thought their experiences in war tied them together, but their natures contrasted too much. Where Nobu was passionate and easy to anger, Goeth was calm to the extreme. It made her think about the Chairman and how kind he appeared to the public eye. He felt so superficial when stacked beside the two men…there was nothing of his actual personality she could see just from the outside. Speaking with the Colonel last night had brought out more of who he really was than anything she had seen from the Chairman. If he had shown anything more than a fleeting interest in her, perhaps he would have revealed a bit of _something_ , no?

The thought made her miserable. She was closer to understanding a foreigner than she was to the man she confessed to love for all of her teenage years.

Mameha sensed the sudden change in atmosphere, swirling her tea instead of speaking.

"Thank you, Onee-san. I think…I agree." She rose from her cushion, drawing back the curtains on Mameha's window to look outside. "I suppose I know what to do now."

"It will make your time with General Tattori easier."

Sayuri nodded, the barest of sighs passing through her lips.


End file.
